Battle
by Mirrordance
Summary: A battle is fought on many fronts. The many faces of Helm’s Deep humbles a king, teaches an elf to bite his tongue, and shows the strength of the human spirit


Author: Mirrordance

Title: Battles

Type: one-shot

Summary: A battle is fought on many fronts. The many faces of Helm's Deep humbles a king, teaches an elf to bite his tongue, and shows the strength of the human spirit      

Setting: begins at the battle of Helm's Deep in the general style of the movie "The Two Towers" except some outcomes are to change, some scenes added.

      ~Legolas, bring him down!~

      The elf had heard the constrained panic of Aragorn, and his keen eyes did not have to strain to find the heavily-armed uruk-hai bearing an ominous torch running towards the wall of the fortress...

      The first arrow flew from his hand and met its mark, sharp and clean.  It broke the stride of the orc for a breath, but it regained its heavy footing and continued onwards, to Legolas's great dismay.  Aragorn had seen this as well.

      ~Kill him!~ hollered the man, his voice mirroring the elf's unspoken but greatly mounting frustration, ~Kill him!~

      The second arrow flew.  True to its wielder, it met its mark once again, but the orc staggered and still moved forward.

      Brows furrowed and eyes widened in disbelief and sudden anger and fear, Legolas leveled his bow for a third effort.

      But the arrow didn't fly a third time.  It fell to the grounds below limply, a moment after the elf heard the resounding thwok! of an enemy's arrow finding the flesh between his heart and shoulder.  Why hadn't he thought about such a thing? Of course the enemy would protect its own interests...

      He took a breath and took another arrow from his quiver, blinked to clear his vision, and aimed at the orc with the torch a fourth time.  He will deal with the others later...

      He couldn't stifle the quiet cry that escaped his mouth when another arrow found him, its force tearing through armor and skin.  It threw him back by a step, and his knees buckled beneath him.

      He shook his head and tried to regain his feet.  There was time still, to stop the orc who had threatened the fortress so, and who had stood up to his twin arrows.  There was always time for the quick hands of an elf…

      He braced himself against the floor, pushed himself up to his shaking feet, and painfully raised his bow to his target, whom he had found just in time to see the mad orc jump to its death towards a bomb that took down a sizeable part of the outer wall.

      The deafening roar of the blast drowned the clamor of battle as the ground shook with its great force.  Legolas slid to the floor, shielding his head from the rain of rocks and boulders, his back to the low wall as he waited for the blast and succeeding tremors to still.  He used the moment to catch his breath, and take stock of himself.

      _I had failed..._

      He shook his head.  There was time for such thoughts, later.  There was always time for the long life of the elf...

      Provided he survived this forsaken battle.

      He leveled his eyes on the two arrows sticking out of his body, near his left shoulder.  The keep, after his failure, is now more open to the vicious attackers.  If he desired to be more useful, he must make quick work of it.

      Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the tail of one of the arrows and pulled it out swiftly.  His vision swam, and he hissed as he caught his breath.  Bracing himself for the next pull, he surveyed his miserable surroundings.

      The battle continued around him, orcs and elves and men stumbling and working through a ground that was littered with the dead, their eyes wide and unseeing.  The blast had created a temporary respite; the enemy was regrouping to invade the fortress by the hole it had created, and the humans and elves (_and dwarf_!) struggled to reclaim their wits about this new and profoundly lethal problem.

      Here amongst the bodies of the dead, his eyes glazed by pain and an arrow sticking out of his body, no one seemed to heed him at all.  But Legolas was not one of the dead, not yet.

      His hand shaking, he put the first arrow he had taken from his body into his quiver-- he might need it, later.  The next he gripped tightly and pulled out, gingerly this time for the manner by which he had removed the first did not agree with him.  

      He caught his breath slowly, and steadily gained his feet.  This battle is not over for Legolas Greenleaf.  He would not allow it to be so.  The outer wall had fallen.  The nightmare will only get worse.  He was needed more, now.  

      Grabbing a fallen orc-shield, he laid it on the floor and rode it down the steep flight of stairs.  Bow in hand, eyes sharp, will strong... he dove into the fray.

      The dwarf was as resilient as his head was hard and his resolve great.  Aragorn allowed himself a moment of amusement as he watched two soldiers struggle to pull the mightily spirited Gimli back to a retreat from the battle.  But minutes ago, after the blast that had at last broken the legendary outer wall of Helm's Deep had thrown him with its great force, Aragorn had struggled to consciousness to find the dwarf, strongly and solitarily holding back the flood of orcs that streamed through the break.

      "Aragorn!" he had yelled with his booming, jovial voice as he jumped into battle with his heavy axe raised high over his head.   

      "Fall back to the keep!" yelled Aragorn, tearing his eyes from Gimli and scanning the area for any soldier who may be too injured to proceed deeper into the protection of the fortress by his own power, or one who may not have heard the order, or rarer ones like Gimli who would not be uprooted from his post.   

      A man stumbled before him as they ran, and Aragorn grabbed him by the arm and collar of his armor to raise him to his feet, barely breaking his stride.  This soldier would not be the first that the son of Arathorn would aid in the course of the retreat.  Aragorn prodded another soldier forward and turned around to ensure that no living man would be left to the ravages of the orcs.  Parrying attacks with his sword even as he kept his eyes open and his mind alert to the intricacies of the hasty retreat, he found the elf Haldir on the upper level of the outer wall of the fortress.

      "Haldir!" he called as he plunged his blade into an orc and pushed its body away from his sword by a kick, "To the keep!"

      The elf commander gave him a curt nod as his sword divested yet another uruk-hai of its life.

      ~Fall back~ Haldir said in his own tongue, alertly looking around for his men, much as the human Aragorn was doing.

      Backing down cautiously, felling orcs who got in his way or prevented him from his strategic retreat, Haldir eventually found himself by the side of Aragorn, their backs towards the keep and their swords poised and ready to fight any orc who dared follow.

      ~Hurry!~ Haldir commanded, his graceful hands motioning for an elf who was lingering.  

      The orcs were getting wind of their temporary victory as the elves and men retreated deeper into the keep.  They made an effort at pursuit with their lumbering gait, and Aragorn and Haldir watched as a group of the fierce warriors headed towards them.  

      They readied their stances to keep the orcs from following inside, but their swords never even touched the flesh of their enemies.  Arrows from behind them, on an upper level of the fortress, flew and downed their enemies.

      Aragorn turned to look above him and found Legolas Greenleaf and some archers he apparently gathered to cover the retreat.

      "Theoden King is at the main gate, Aragorn!" exclaimed the Prince of Mirkwood, as he leveled his aim on another orc, giving the man barely a moment to acknowledge his nod of thanks.

      Aragorn jogged to the main gate as Haldir joined Legolas and the other archers above.  He found the King slumped against the wall, nursing a wounded shoulder as the rest of his men valiantly tried to barricade and hold down a door that would not hold, not like this…

      Soldiers with lumber wove through the crowd which was holding the door by their very bodies.  But the force of the orc enforcers from the outside would not allow even the slightest of repairs, and the lumber splintered.

      "Hold them out!" the King ordered still, his voice strong even in his weariness.

      "How long do you need?" Aragorn asked, scanning the room for any man who would have the nerve, the skill, and the unquestioning trust in him to accompany him for what he was planning.  

      "As much as you can give me," the King replied.

      Aragorn considered this answer fair enough, and his eyes fell on the bulky figure of Gimli, son of Gloin.

      "Gimli!" he called.

      Surely enough, the dwarf sauntered to him and the two of them ran to a narrow, secret side entrance near the main gate, opening down to a slim, rough ledge overlooking the cliffs below and parallel to the causeway to the gate which was now fully occupied by orcs who were trying to break into the fortress.

      Stealthily, leaning against the wall, Aragorn craned his neck for a look at the marauding orcs.

      "Come on, we can take 'em!" Gimli insisted.

      Aragorn measured the distance the two of them had to jump from where they were and to the causeway.  The odds were bad enough for a man to make it to the other side, let alone the stubby dwarf…

      "It's a long way," Aragorn warned.

      The dwarf's face scrunched in consideration, and he said in an embarrassed, uncharacteristically low voice, "Toss me."

      There had been a time that, even under threat of a very real and very painful death, Gimli said that No One Tosses a Dwarf.  Aragorn tilted his head at Gimli, his eyes boring through the dwarf's as if to ask if he had really heard right.

      "I cannot jump the distance.  You'd have to toss me," Gimli said again, with more resolve now although he was still deeply embarrassed.  Aragorn said nothing in reply, but took a solid grip of the dwarf's collar.  Just as he was bracing to throw the dwarf over to the other side, Gimli grabbed him by his shirt and said, "Don't tell the elf."

      Aragorn had been tempted to laugh at the pride and amusingly trivial concern of the dwarf given the circumstances, but instead he promised gravely, "Not a word."

      The dwarf soared over the yawning gap and landed on his sure legs on the causeway, his axe ready.  A moment later, Aragorn followed with his sword raised.

      Legolas watched from above the keep as his two friends took on the orcs that were trying to break into the main gate.

      _How could the dwarf have jumped such a distance_, he wondered, and his eyes danced and his lips shook as he pondered a possibility…

      Setting aside his amusement, he aided them as best he could, sending forth his arrows.  He could hear the busy sounds of construction on the gate below under the din of the battle; Aragorn and Gimli were successfully giving them the time that they desperately needed to reinforce the door.

      Finally, he heard Theoden scream to his friends, "Get out of there!"

      Legolas looked at the situation and wondered how in the world the King figured the two warriors and friends could accomplish that.  They couldn't go inside the keep through the gate of course, and they could hardly jump back to the narrow ledge from where they came.  There was simply no room, and they surely would have fallen into the yawning cliff that surrounded this part of the fortress.

      "Rope!" Legolas yelled to his companions, "Rope!"

      But they were just as occupied with the ensuing battle as he was with the plight of his friends.  Looking around anxiously, he saw that in this battle, if anyone had any rope to spare, it was the uruk-hai.

      A massive, three-bladed spear attached to a rope would soar from one of their weapons below, and latch itself to the wall of the fortress like an anchor, and they used this contraption to hoist their heavy ladders laden with uruk-hai ready to storm into the walls.

      Taking careful aim at one of these such ropes, he released his arrow.  Even with the now-familiar sting of his shoulder injury, his accuracy was hampered little, and the tiny arrow found its tiny mark.  The rope splintered, and the ladder it was raising toward the wall fell with all of its orcs, falling amongst even more orcs below with a sickening crunch.

      That would surely send his number of kills over Gimli's soaring to levels the dwarf couldn't even dream of, he thought with a mischievous grin as he ran to the blades on which the rope was tied.  He grabbed an arrow from his quiver and stabbed at its end, freeing the rope.  He pulled the entire length of it towards him.  It was surely strong enough, and when he had aimed at it, he made sure it was cut long enough.

      Looping the rope around one of the fortress's sturdy columns and around his good arm, he yelled for his friends.

      "Aragorn!" he said, catching the man's attention.  Legolas tossed him the rope.  Aragorn grabbed it with one hand, felled a few more orcs with the other, before he grabbed for Gimli.

      With all his might, Legolas tugged, and watched as his friends were lifted from the path, over the heads of angry orcs.

      Grunting with the effort, he suddenly realized that this was something he had not thought of very well.  The weight of Aragorn and Gimli was sending fire through his wounds, and the flesh of his hands burned with the friction from the rope.  Still, he would not let them down, as he had let Helm's Deep down when he had failed to slay the orc with the torch…

      Crying out with his determination, alternating one hand with the other, he struggled to pull his friends into safety.  He shook with the strain, and he braced his feet against the wall for more leverage as his arms started to weaken.

      Suddenly, his burden was lightened, and he looked behind him in confusion, to find Haldir also pulling the rope.

      His heart felt close to bursting in relief when he found Aragorn's hand on the wall.  Haldir kept the rope secure as Legolas grabbed his friends by their forearms and pulled them over the wall into safety.  Taking a deep breath, he tugged at them with all his might, and the glorious heroes fell over each other in an unglamorous heap inside the wall.

      The elf's glinting eyes met the dwarf's, so tempted was Legolas to tease Gimli about being tossed.  But he bit his tongue, for now.

      "What?" snapped Gimli guiltily.

      "I am very pleased to see you are well, my friend," Legolas said instead. 

      The dwarf yelled a laugh.  "Ha ha!" he exclaimed, delightedly and unknowingly slapping Legolas on his bad shoulder.  The pride of the elf allowed him nothing but a wince from the pain of the contact on his wound.  The reaction had not been seen by Gimli, but it was not lost to the perceptive eye of Aragorn.  He looked at Legolas knowingly, then pushed himself to his feet.

      "We lend our arms to the King," he said, looking at Legolas particularly.  The elf may want to linger out here on the upper level of the keep and destroy more orcs with his arrows alongside the other elves, but the healers would be deeper inside, below in shelter, and surely he must need one.

      "We shall keep them at bay with our arrows for as long as we can," said Haldir coolly as he rose to his feet, "and then we shall follow you below."

      Aragorn nodded and walked towards the interiors.  Gimli walked after him heartily, and Legolas followed after a breath of hesitation.

      "How many have you, Master elf?" Gimli asked as the two entered shelter and went down the stairs towards the floors below.  The dwarf was eager to divulge his vast number.

      Legolas smiled and his eyes glowed past his discomfort in mischief, "Forty-one--"

      "Ha!" the dwarf exclaimed, "I beat your number by one."

      "-not including the countless orcs upon a ladder, and crushed beneath it, that a single arrow of mine had defeated," the elf finished in great satisfaction.

      The dwarf grumbled in displeasure.

      "They shouldn't count," he said half-heartedly.

      "Fear not, my friend," Legolas said, his laughter musical, "The night is long, and the orcs many.  You may defeat me yet."

      Gimli looked up at him determinedly.  But he would have had more pleasure, even in losing to the elf, if the battle was over and there were no more orcs at all.

      "Gimli," Aragorn said, "gather more wood from the dining rooms.  We may need them to further strengthen the doors, later."

      The dwarf nodded and immediately set out as he was told.  Legolas walked in pace with Aragorn now as they went down into the halls, and looked around them.  They were inside one of the vast rooms of the keep, and it was full of people who were scurrying about.  

      "Tend to your injury, Legolas," Aragorn said in a low voice.

      "It demands no immediate attention," Legolas said quickly, "And there is much work to be done."

      "Tend to it," Aragorn insisted, "while the barricades lend us time.  We need your will, my friend, but we need your strength as well."

      Legolas looked at him intently with furrowed brows.

      "I shall look for a healer with a free hand," said Legolas carefully, promising nothing, "But if I find they are all otherwise occupied, I shall not keep them from their work for so trivial an injury."

      "If you do not find a healer with a free hand," said Aragorn, "I shall set aside my work and tend to it myself."

      Legolas sighed in consternation, but walked off to do as the king of men bid him to do with his quiet authority and burning eyes.

      With that done, Aragorn turned in search for Theoden King.  Helm's Deep had always held because of its fierce walls.  The outer walls have fallen, but the castle-like keep had to hold, now.  It too was heavily fortified, but Aragorn feared for its doors.

      The first was the main gate at the end of the causeway, which was the sole entrance into the fortress, of course not counting the hole the orc-bombs had used to break the wall.  It led to a courtyard that was wide and winding, surrounding another wall which in turn, wound itself around a stunted tower that also had its own gate.  Should the main gate fall, the group could retreat to the next wall, and if that should fall, they could retreat to the tower.   But Aragorn preferred that not to happen; it was too close, too much like being backed into a wall little by little.

      Plans had to be made, and he needed the voice of the King to make them into orders.

      Finding Theoden surrounded by his closest circle of men, Aragorn jogged up to him.

      "The main gate could only hold so much…" one of the men were saying.

      "We must fortify it," said Aragorn, "as best we can.  Then move to the inner wall and fortify that gate as well.  There we shall stay awhile and hope it holds.  The elves have offered to stay on the upper levels as long as they are able, but they are running out of arrows and soon that area too shall be overtaken with no long-distance defense.  We must go as deep into the keep as we can, and put as much fortified doors between us and the orcs."

      At this point, it had been an unspoken agreement that no forms of offensive maneuvers would be taken; they were lacking in skilled soldiers, lacking in rations, exhausted.  To stay alive was goal enough, for the moment.

      Theoden met Aragorn's eyes evenly, and nodded as he repeated his battle cry, "The fortress will not fall as long as our men defend it.  We will weather this."

      "Legolas!"

      The elf looked up to face the Lady Eowyn, who was running towards him with a bundle wrapped in an old blanket.  He was sitting on the ground as a healer put herbs on his wound.

      "Lady!" he exclaimed, "You are supposed to be in the caves with the other women and children…"

      Eowyn carelessly waved this off, as she knelt before him and put the bundle on the ground.

      "Marcel," she softly said to the aging healer, "tend to the others, I shall aid him."

      "Milady," the healer murmured, as he set down his herbs and yielded the bandages to Eowyn, turning to his uncountable charges.

      Deftly, with her quick hands, she went to finish the work of the healer.

      "I have come above ground," she said by way of explanation, "to offer your kind a present from our women and children.  We are most grateful for your allegiance, and our anxious hands could not just wait for outcomes."

      She looked up from her work for a moment, finding his eyes glinting and much amused, as if telling her that he knew just how impatient and strong-willed she could be.

      She bound his wound expertly, then opened the bundle and showed him what looked to be almost a hundred arrows.  

      "We yielded some of our firewood to make them," she said softly, "It was the least we could give you.  We thought they might be necessary.  Or if not, then you could use them in your other battles, other journeys… They are not of your kind.  They are plain, and some of our children are not yet so adept with their crafts-"

      All that she said was true; such weapons were but sticks to the elves with their intricate weapons.  But they were shafts still, and they were desperately needed, and they had come from the already-scarce firewood, made by the loving hands of the women and children of Rohan--these lent them a beauty that is unlike any other in the world.

      He let his fingers run through the shafts of arrows, and smiled at her gratefully.  "Thank you, milady.  Thank them."

      She nodded at him determinedly, before setting down the herbs and beginning to bandage his wound.

      "That will not be necessary," he said, taking the clean strips of cloth from her hands, "This I can do on my own.  Return to the women and children, Lady, keep your people safe."

      She looked at him gravely, and nodded as she pushed herself to her feet.  She had said nothing more to him when she left, but her eyes burned with her passion.  

      _'Tis why Aragorn has so much confidence in Rohan_, Legolas reflected.  Earlier, to his great guilt, he had argued with Aragorn and decided that all of these people shall pass, this night.  They had no chance against the uruk-hai with their ferocity, their bulk.  Eventually, he had apologized to Aragorn, and accepted a transitive trust toward Rohan; _I trust Aragorn and he trusts in you, so I see no reason why I should not._  But now… the fire in Eowyn's eyes… It is life, it is spirit, it is survival…

      _I'm sorry, my friend_, he sent a thought up to Aragorn, _I did not encounter or understand humans enough to see their burning spirit, outside of your own.  I know better now._

      Hurriedly binding his wounds and fastening his tunic, he gathered his weapons and slipped on his quiver and knives.  Then he took the bundle of arrows and got up to his feet, running up the stairwell.

      "Haldir!" he called, and the elven commander turned to face the Prince of Mirkwood.

      ~How goes the battle from here?~ asked Legolas.

      ~Our arrows are near spent~ replied Haldir, ~But we have kept them at bay.~

      ~I bear gifts,~ said Legolas, showing Haldir the bundle, ~Made by the women and children of their own firewood.~

      Haldir looked slightly perplexed as he smiled, ~Oft times, the ideas and actions of men surprise me.  Yet I am truly warmed by them.~

      ~We shall use these well, my friend,~ said Legolas.

      ~Elves always do,~ said Haldir in that assured manner of his, calling for one of his men to distribute the new ammunition.

      Eowyn entered the sanctuary of the women and children, and a group of the women hurriedly locked and barricaded the door behind her.

      "I have given the arrows to Legolas," she divulged as she sat on the ground, "he shall see them well-used."

      The underground chamber was eerily quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the battle above, and the occasional cry of a child and his mother hurriedly hushing him.  The infants were highly sensitive to the tension around them, and a single child crying resulted in all the others becoming horribly upset.

      "I like the elf Legolas," one of the women shared, unable to stand the unbearable silence of the room, quaking with the very fear of its inhabitants.

      "I've not seen so many elves in my life," shared another, "they are right pretty."

      "Like pastries," said a little girl softly, prompting some muffled and nervous giggles from the other, older women.

      "It was very proper of them to have come to us in our darkest hour," said an old lady, "if not for their presence, surely, Helm's Deep had fallen much earlier."

      This was responded to by dismayed remarks, which Eowyn calmed.

      "You musn't say such things," she said, "Helm's Deep will not fall.  It never has, and it shall hold this night."

      "I wish they had let the women fight," said a young woman, "They let the children fight, did they not?"

      One older woman found this laughable, though her tone also held some scorn, "What would you know of such things, Leonor? You run a brothel."

      "Ah," said Leonor, "My father was a soldier, and he taught me a few things.  But most of what I know I had gleaned from my mother and her brothel.  You see, a mad orc is just like a drunken man, I tell you.  Ask your husband.  I see him most frequently."

      The woman's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to say something, except Eowyn cut her off before a harsh word left her mouth.

      "Not in front of the children," she said quietly but authoritatively.  She looked at Leonor in warning, cautioning the brash young lady from antagonizing the older woman.

      Leonor shrugged, not willing to apologize, and resuming her argument about women in battle.  "Even you, Lady Eowyn, could hold your own in battle.  Much better than most men I know!"

      "And she knows a lot of men!" the older woman from before had sneered.  Leonor looked at her wryly and bit her tongue.

      "Battles are fought in many fronts," Eowyn said, surprising herself in that she now understood and took the stand that King Theoden did when she begged him to join the battle, "up there, and in here.  We defend the children, and the other women who could not fight.  If the uruk-hai break through the strength of our men, we still hold the future of Rohan, in these young faces.  When they come for us, then you can use your strength in felling drunken orcs, Leonor."

      Leonor laughed heartily, "I would gladly fight alongside you, Lady, anywhere you go."

      _A long night_…

      They had been pushed deeper and deeper into the keep as barricaded gate after barricaded gate was breached by the fighting uruk-hai.  They were now as Aragorn feared they would be earlier this night, backed against a wall.  

      Most of the men were pushed back to secure other areas of their narrowing territory.  A small contingent upon which belonged himself, Legolas, Gimli, Theoden and some of the king's men stayed in this hall to reinforce one of the last doors between them and the Orcs.  

      Running back and forth from the door to various parts of the hall carrying wood, stone, anything to barricade the door with, was Legolas and Aragorn who matched each other by pace.

      "Does dawn draw near?" asked Aragorn, recalling Gandalf's promise to look to the East for his coming, and the reinforcements he had vowed to bring.

      "I feel its warmth," said Legolas, as the two lifted up a table and carried it to the door.

      "Perhaps you could fetch the sun to save us," Aragorn suggested with teasing eyes, reprising a suggestion made by Gandalf to the elf what seemed a lifetime ago, up in the harshness of the snows in Caradhras.

      To this Legolas laughed, as they laid the table against the door, which almost burst inward with the strength of the attack on the other side, "I'm sorry my friend.  I would but I am otherwise occupied."

      "How fares your wound?" Aragorn asked, as he grunted and braced the table against the door once more.

      "I would forget it," breathed Legolas as he leaned against the table, "if you do not keep reminding me of it, Aragorn."

      Aragorn looked at the elf from the corner of his eye.  The injury had been bad enough, even without the pace by which Legolas pushed his body this night.  He stood strong, but his eyes became glazed at times, weary and in pain.  Perhaps they all looked the same… this was too long a night…

      He pushed himself from the door and his eyes searched the room for more materials to barricade the gate with.  It was almost-glaringly empty by now, but what was shattering his heart was the sight of Theoden looking at the fight as if it were over, looking at them as if they were already dead.

      "The fortress is taken," the King said with finality, "it is over."

      Aragorn sauntered towards him, "You said this fortress will never fall as long as your men defend it," he said stonily, "They are defending it.  They have died defending it!"

      The King looked on in despair.

      "Is there any other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" Aragorn asked, glancing at the pounding on the door.  He looked at the unresponsive King.  "Is there any other way?"

      "There is one way," said the King's aide Gamling, "It leads to the mountains.  But they will not get far.  The uruk-hai are too many."

      "Send word for the women and children to make for the mountain pass," ordered Aragorn, "And barricade the entrance."

      "So much death," the King said suddenly, "What can men do against such reckless hate?"

      Aragorn looked at the King intently, with Theoden's despair sitting too close to his own heart.  How could some beings be so cruel, yes… it had always been this way… 

      "Ride out with me," said Aragorn at last.

      The King looked at him.  For a breath he thought Theoden might tell him he was mad.  But the King's eyes lit with rising wildfire.

      "For death and glory."

      "For Rohan," Aragorn insisted, "for your people."

      "The sun rises," Gimli says softly, looking up as the sun warms the world outside, its golden arms slowly creeping from the east and reaching for the skies.

      They had held out the night.  Gandalf shall come, and not a moment too soon.

      "Let this be the hour when we draw swords together," said Theoden, gripping Aragorn's shoulder.  Aragorn stared at the king as if he were glowing with the strength of his will.

      Suddenly, they turned to the sound of horse hooves from deeper in the keep, making its way to the hall where they were.  It was Haldir, and some of his archers perched on harnessed horses, and holding the reins of Aragorn's own.

      He laughed as he took the reins to his faithful steed from the hands of Haldir, _Damn those elven ears_…

      Theoden strode towards his own horse, less light in spirit, though just as determined.  One way or another, this battle shall end for him this day.  In death or in victory.

      Legolas left the door and jogged to his horse, adroitly swinging his legs over its broad back.  He looked expectantly at Gimli, who hesitated.

      "I would rather stay on my own two feet, elf," said the dwarf gruffly, looking up at him, "that horse will kill me before any orc could."

      Legolas laughed, "Take care, my friend."

      Gimli nodded and hoisted his axe over his shoulder.  He strode up to the stairwell and headed for the war horns, looking back but once to see the graceful warriors upon their horses, waiting for the door that kept the orcs from the keep to splinter and break.

      The horn of Helm Hammerhand sounded mightily over the cliffs and ridges and orc-overrun plains as the last gate burst open in the keep, and out towards their fate rode the defenders of Rohan, their cloaks billowing, their swords flashing, their flag proudly raised.

      With such strength of will, it almost seemed possible that these two handfuls of men and elves could down the thousand-strong orcs that remained from the night's assault.

      Down through the keep they rode, and out through the causeway, one by one defeating all the enemies that got in their way.  The renewed assault was a surprise to the fighting uruk-hai, who scrambled in the ensuing chaos.  But the surprise would not last for long, Aragorn knew.

      _Where is the sun? Where is Gandalf_…?

      As the sunlight slowly stretched through the skies, he paused from battle long enough to look to the east, and found the wizard in all his shimmering white.  With him were the riders of Rohan, led by none other than Eomer.

      The orcs seemed to notice this great presence as well, and turned to face their new enemies.

      The sound of the hundreds of horse hooves running down the mountain was like a rolling thunderstorm.  The orcs, with their spears raised, prepared for the contact in earnest.  But as the sun rose behind the riders, the orcs were blinded by the magnificent light, and this gave the riders the leverage they needed.

      Aragorn watched with squinted eyes at the bright sight, his lips curving in pleasure.  There were at least a thousand orcs left to take down, but in the end he knew that it would be Rohan who would prevail.

      Eowyn was the first to step out of the caves and ran straight into her brother's arms.

      "Eomer!" she said delightedly, tears welling in her eyes.

      Side by side, they walked to the courtyards of the keep, trailed by the other women and children out of the caves, their eyes straying on the mass of the dead being gathered by the soldiers about them.  Silently, they counted how much their victory had cost.

      Little by little, their crowd thinned as a woman found the body of her husband, a child finds the body of his father, a brother, an uncle…

      There had been tears, yes, but no wails or sobs… they held their beloved close, and murmured prayers and filled their ears with the promises of a new life beyond the hardships that they had known.

      "So few left," Eowyn said softly, "why must anyone wish this upon us, brother…? Why must anyone wish this upon anybody?"

      "I know not," replied Eomer, "It is just the way of things.  We must only know to hold fast to ourselves, and those we love.  We shall prevail, Eowyn.  Fear not."  He hugged his sister tightly, then turned to leave saying, "I must attend to my duties."

      Eowyn nodded and watched him walk away.  Theoden the King stood nearby, supervising the recovery with that powerful way of his.  Aragorn had just entered the courtyard, handing the reins of his horse to a steward.  She ran to him and hugged him tightly.

      "You are safe!" she said in delight, and it seemed that with the sun, her world had righted itself once more.  Eomer, Theoden, Aragorn, and her people, safe at last.

      Aragorn pulled away from her and smiled.  He seemed at a loss for words over her affection.

      She decided to simply smile back.  "I shall not keep you from your duties."

      He nodded at her and stalked towards the elf Haldir, the crowds parting for him without his notice, watching him in awe as he passed.  He emanated strength and dependability, a burning passion for justice, a quiet integrity that brought out the best in those around him.  Such was the stuff the best kings were made of.

      "Haldir," called Aragorn, "Have you seen Gimli and Legolas?"

      "I had last seen Legolas in the plains," replied the elf, "when we rode to meet the orcs.  I've not seen him back, although I have seen his horse in the stables.  You needn't worry about the Prince of Mirkwood.  As for the dwarf, he is courting the wrath of another enemy. I suggest you follow the smell of the food and the sound of the argument."

      Aragorn patted his shoulder and moved past him.  Walking around, he noted that King Theoden's recovery program was well in order.  The bodies of the orcs inside the keep were being brought to a pile outside the walls by men and women and carts.  Some of the women and children took to cleaning the floors and resettling the furniture.  The walls and doors were being repaired, and the smell of food—breakfast!--was gracing the air.  The wounded were being tended to inside, and some soldiers had already taken the time to get much-needed rest.  Notably, some of the elves have taken a room and slept as they did, with open eyes.  Some women and children were standing by the door and murmuring prayers over them, thinking they were dead.  A minstrel had already been summoned to compose a lament.  Aragorn left them to pay their respects; he would love to see Haldir handle this.  

      True to what Haldir had said, Gimli he had found pestering the cooks in the kitchens.  The argument was escalating over some such trivial thing, and it was not a scene he wished to enter.

      He strolled down to the stables, and indeed found Legolas's steed, lying on the hay and being treated by the stable hands, for it had a long, deep gash along its side.

      "Where is its rider?" Aragorn demanded.

      "We found him without one," replied one of the busy men, "He made his way back on his own."

      Aragorn searched the stables for his black horse, finding that its beady eyes were already looking at him expectantly.

      ~I know you need your rest,~ Aragorn murmured against its ear, ~but our friend may need us.~

      "Legolas!"

      "Legolas!"

      The elf blinked his eyes and watched the rider practically jump from his horse and land in front of him, falling to his knees on the ground and looking at him worriedly.

      "Aragorn," Legolas said, a little confused, "What's the matter?"

      "I thought you dead," said the ranger, "What are you doing out here on the plains, sitting on the ground amongst the dead, your eyes unseeing."

      "I was resting," Legolas replied easily, "You forget.  Elves sleep with their eyes open."

      "Still," said Aragorn, sitting in front of his friend, "It strikes fear."

      Aragorn looked at the elf worriedly.  The ground was liberally littered with the bodies of the dead, and Legolas sat among them with his glazed eyes and pale skin, looking as if he belonged…

      "What happened, my friend?" Aragorn asked.

      "We rode out," said Legolas, "And the fight had taken me here, until we had emerged victorious and I seemed the only one left standing.  My horse was injured.  I hadn't noticed this in the melee, and so faithful was he that he sank to his knees only after he was sure we were safe.  I could not bring myself to ride him back, he was hurt as it was.  So I commanded him to return to the keep and promised I would be by shortly.  You've seen him? Does he live?"

      "He is being treated," replied Aragorn, "If he were in possession of his faculties I'm sure he would be as dismayed as I that you are taking too long in your return."

      Legolas smirked at him.  "I was walking back.  I thought to just rest a moment."

      "Your injury troubles you," Aragorn decided.

      "It heals well," Legolas said quickly, and conceded when Aragorn's eyes told him that the king of men would have none of this now, "But it tires me more than I would prefer."

      Aragorn nodded in understanding.  "You must have me look at it."

      "Nonsense," said Legolas, "I have waylaid you long enough.  You have much to do.  Go on ahead.  I shall rest awhile, and I promise I will be by.  Elf feet are light and quick."

      "I have time," Aragorn assured him wryly, "And if I didn't, I would tell you."

      "You lie," Legolas laughed quietly, his eyes dancing.

      "Come," said Aragorn, "we ride my horse."

      Legolas looked up at the mighty horse bleakly.  It suddenly seemed too high.  

      Aragorn watched his face.  "I shall lend you my shoulder."

      Legolas's brows furrowed in embarrassment.  "I would tell you if I required your assistance."

      Aragorn laughed.  "Now it is you who is lying."

      Legolas did not deny this.  He looked at Aragorn seriously.

      "You are walking wounded yourself," the elf pointed out, "Gimli said this to me.  He found you after the blast that had broken the deeping wall.  You were unconscious for a time, he said.  Such things should not be taken lightly."

      "As you can see," said Aragorn, "I am well.  But if it pleases you, then I promise to see a healer, later."

      Legolas breathed and shook his head.  "As soon as you possibly could, my friend.  I fear… I could have been the death of you."

      "What do you mean?" asked Aragorn.

      "I failed to take down the orc," said Legols, "It is my fault the wall fell.  And you with it.  If Gimli had not come for you..." he shook his head, laughed at himself although it did not reach his eyes, "You needn't concern yourself with my trivial affairs."

      Aragaorn laid a hand on his good arm, "You did not fail, my friend.  The arrow was released quickly.  It met its mark.  Twice.  'Tis no fault of yours that the orc is built like a rock.  You need not regret.  Nor fear.  For we are all well."

      Legolas stared at him intently, and nodded.

      "Now we must leave this place," said Aragorn, "I may not have the stomach to stay as you seem to, but I have the strength to take us both away."  

      Gritting his teeth, Legolas pushed himself from the ground, steadied his feet.  Aragorn got up more cautiously, ready to catch him if the elf fell.

      Legolas found that standing had been hard.  But to get up the horse, pulling his weight with his already sore and throbbing arm would be torture…

      "If Gimli could ask to be tossed," Legolas said with a smile teasing his lips, "I could surely ask for your help."

      Aragorn looked at him with laughter in his eyes, though his face was carefully composed, "I do not know what you are talking about."

      Settling Legolas in front of him and steadying him with an arm about his waist, Aragorn prodded his horse to move forward.

      "I came upon a most interesting scene in the keep," Aragorn said, feeling the elf beginning to go limp and willing him to stay alert.

      "Interesting?" Legolas inquired softly.

      "Your elf archers have taken a room to rest and sleep," said Aragorn, "and some of the men, women and children peered through their door and thought they were dead, sleeping as they were with their eyes open.  They were saying prayers and summoning a minstrel for a song of lament when I had left."

      Aragorn felt the elf chuckle against him.  "It is rather uncanny."

      "I wish to return in time to see what Haldir would tell them," said Aragorn.

      "I wish this too," said Legolas.

      "So stay awake, my friend," advised Aragorn.

      "I shall certainly try," laughed the elf, "I do not want to wake and find myself surrounded by prayers and minstrels."

      They let the horse bring them to the safety of the keep.  _The battle of Helm's Deep had finished, but the battle of Middle Earth has just begun_… However, for now, the storm winds of the great war were still and the sun was high in the sky.  For the moment there was peace, and though it would fleet soon, its grace played and lingered in the cliffs and rock faces, soothing the spirit and healing the soul, strengthening it for the trials sure to come. 

THE END

August 26, 2003

SOME IMPORTANT NOTES:

I'M A NOVICE.  this is my first fic for LOTR.  Its raw, for I thought I would just toss some scenes around.  Needless to say, I loved the scenes on Helm's Deep.  I could not dream of my interpretation having as much of the spark as the original, but I wanted to 'try this on for a size.'  I hope its bearable :) I also hope I did not get too many details wrong (some were details were slightly modified, of course).  Either way, I had a lot of fun making it and watching the movie so I hope some of that spirit of fun rubbed off on the piece :) ON SOME OF THE CHARACTERIZATIONS.  My favorite is, like many other people, LEGOLAS.  I find him fascinating.  I leafed through the book, seen the films, and scoured the internet (including scanning some ffic pieces) for a general idea of how he is depicted and perceived.  The book paints a more lighthearted picture, whereas the movies find him, though charming, often quiet.  He is often perceived as having great pride typical of an elf, at the same time, rather humorous as well.  He has the careful composure of his race, but human passions too.  He is also uncannily dependable, almost seemingly omnipresent; anytime trouble strikes, he is always at the forefront.  They scream his name and an arrow flies shortly afterward.  Watch for these in the movie.  The first scene of my fic is actually inspired by a quote I remember hearing (though I forgot from whom).  It was said by a soldier and it was something like, 'when you find you have a clear shot of someone, you start to wonder if someone else has a clear shot at you.' 

HALDIR.  He seems very strong and proud.  But the movie scene of their arrival tore at the heart strings, as well as the hug he had hesitantly exchanged with Aragorn.  I decided to keep him with them in my version :) he is a guilty pleasure, and I could not resist the little quip of Aragorn late in my fic about wanting to see Haldir handle the situation.

ARAGORN.  He's like a rock.  Physically and spiritually sound, he never wavers.  

THE WOMEN.  I wanted them to take a more active role.  It would have been nice to have a female warrior, and for a time I had considered that this would be the original character Leonor.  But I changed my mind.  Maybe when I get more used to LOTR, I could make one of those infamous mary-sue's :) I also wanted Eowyn to have a grasp of why she was sitting out this war, so I had to put in the women-scene.  I hope I managed to convey most of these ideas about the characters.  

ON HELM'S DEEP AND ACTION.  I hope the action sequences were not overly confusing.  Actually one of my biggest worries was to get the general form of Helm's Deep wrong.  Well, it is my first and I only hope to try and get better :) ON C&C's.  I hope you send me some.  I'm not very confident about the piece and I know I could sure use some help.  If you have any tips, don't hesitate.  Thanks for reading!   


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